


Uncivilised Behaviour

by Triss_Hawkeye



Category: Night at the Museum (Movies)
Genre: Cultural Misunderstandings, Dry Humping, Fighting, Jed doesn't want to even think about his feelings much less talk about them, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-25 23:27:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15651108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Triss_Hawkeye/pseuds/Triss_Hawkeye
Summary: Fall, 1992Fighting with Octavius always turns wild.





	Uncivilised Behaviour

**Author's Note:**

> A tribute/remix of sorts of ByronicVulcan’s Jedediah/Octavius fics, The Ways of Wild Animals and Breathing in particular - I wanted to write something akin to the former from Jed’s point of view (with a little role-reversal thrown in), and so this ends up being my take on one of the incidents alluded to in the latter. Please do read ByronicVulcan’s work if you haven’t already, it is some excellent stuff that I can only hope to do justice to here.

Fall, 1992

Fighting with Octavius always turns wild.

Not that Jedediah considers himself that uncivilised - that’s for the Roman to do, all city-bred pomp and thinking of anything that lives out of doors as barbaric. But get him alone, the fight taking them away from their men as it was sometimes wont to do, and the trappings of order fall away swiftly. Often enough a well-placed kick could send his sword spinning off into the dim corridors, a vengeful dive-tackle knocking his helmet loose, the metal clattering onto the floor as the battle devolves into a savage wrestling match - knees, elbows, fists and feet. Wild.

They are well-matched for strength and cunning, and their grappling often takes them both to the point of exhaustion before either even considers conceding. Though should it come to that, too harsh a blow drawing blood or dizziness or a shout of pain, Octavius has always proven an honourable adversary, willing to grant a reprieve or even a hand to his feet - a courtesy that Jedediah returns in kind when he senses that things have gone too far. He too is a man of honour, in his own way.

This night is much the same, and Jedediah knows that they are on the last of their strength as he tackles Octavius against the wall, pinning him there with one hand around each of the Roman’s upper arms. He flings his body weight into it for good measure, trapping the armoured torso against the wall with his own chest. His hat falls to the ground as he leans his forehead against the cool stone, but he ignores it, taking the moment to catch his breath.

Octavius, for his part, wriggles in his grip. Finding little purchase in moving his upper body, his struggles move to his legs and hips, bucking outwards against Jed’s hold. Jedediah is quick to brace himself, pushing back with his own hips and locking him to the wall there as well. Their feet stutter and shuffle against each other, and one of Octavius’ legs ends up slipping naturally between his own. His opponent’s writhing stills for a brief moment, and he feels the other man’s forehead lower to rest on his shoulder, panting quietly.

Jed inhales deeply, and wonders that he catches a whiff of something wild. Beneath the masculine scent of sweat and exertion between them there is the tang of oil and leather from Octavius’ armour, and beneath that, exotic hints of ancient civilisation - spiced wine and olives and incense. And whatever it is beneath that which gives him temporary leave of his senses. For in times like these, more so lately than before, there’s a savage sort of pleasure comes upon him like a buck in heat. The skin of Octavius’ arms beneath his hands is bare, and some part of himself wishes his gloves away, to grip skin-to-skin. And Octavius moves his hips again, and though he likely has strength enough remaining to brace against the wall and push Jedediah away in one move should he want to - Lord knows Jed’s done it to him before - for him too it seems that the struggle rather than the escape is more important here, higher needs suppressed by some deeper instinct.

Jedediah, church-grown and solitary in life when it came to matters of the heart, does not know that there are many ways two men can move against each other considered acceptable and desirable by a civilised Roman. He does not know that in this moment, Octavius experiences no contradiction in his nature. Jedediah simply knows that he feels wild, his heartbeat leaping as their hips rock together, and he has to grit his teeth to stop himself from howling like a coyote when its fulfilment rushes through him and leaves him spent and trembling. 

Octavius lets out a sharp hiss of air into his shoulder before his own writhing stills as well, leaning his head back against the wall with a gentle gasp as if succumbing to fatigue. Jedediah’s forehead stays pressed against the stone surface, unwilling yet to meet the eyes of his captive. Somewhere along the line, Octavius’ fingers have become tangled in the fabric of his shirt. Now they unclench and fall loose to his sides. At that, Jedediah loosens his own grip on the Roman’s arms, pushes himself back enough to look at him.

The two of them must be quite the sight, both sweat-slick and flushed of face, breathing heavily of the same air that mingles between them. No matter their nature by day, Jed thinks that there’s nothing more alive than them right now.

There is something in Octavius’ expression that Jed doesn’t know how to read. Like maybe he’s waiting for him to say something. Jedediah doesn’t know what to say. He realises that he has lost his handle on the situation completely - he has no idea what happens now. 

Octavius’ eyebrows twitch. Then, “Pax?” Though gentle, there’s no weakness in his eyes - the word is less surrender than it is suggestion, but Jedediah takes the out that is offered him. He nods in acceptance and pulls away, allowing Octavius to peel himself from the wall and lean his hands on his knees to catch his breath.

“You all right, Oct?”

Octavius makes a show of dusting himself down, and picks Jed’s hat off the floor as he does so. “Yes,” he replies simply, primly, as if entirely unfazed by anything that had taken place. Then he catches his eye and there’s a pause of several heartbeats before he hands back the hat with a serious reply.

“And you, Jedediah?”

Jed’s truly lost his grip if this turtle-shelled screw-loose is asking after his health like he was the one who’d just been pinned to the wall in a fit of God-knows-what. He swipes his Stetson back and shoots Octavius an indignant look before glancing away, straightening his vest and smoothing down his shirt for want of something to occupy his hands for a moment more. “Never better, tin can,” he snipes back, to an exasperated huff from the Roman. “Come on, let’s go find your helmet.”

He feels the other man’s gaze on his back as he strides off and can see his face in his mind’s eye, off-balance, mouth ajar with the need to speak. And if he looks around now perhaps they could, and he could confess that his heart is still leaping in his chest like a pronghorn buck, and they could put a name to what had just happened. But it was a wild thing, not meant for the tongues of civilised men. Best thing he can do, for the sake of both of their dignities, is let it pass without speaking it aloud.

There’s a sigh behind him, and Octavius’ footsteps quickly follow, catching up until they’re walking side by side again. He’s muttering something to himself, too quiet for Jed to catch the words, though he thinks one of them may have been, “Venus.” 

“What’re you doing?” he mumbles, not quite ready to let quiet fall between them just yet.

Octavius’ reply is testy, though not altogether bad-tempered. “Praying,” he states.

“Hmm.” Jedediah doesn’t consider that a bad idea all told, so he prays too - at a loss for words, he prays the pounding of his heart instead. And though he doesn’t really know in truth what he’s asking for, he reckons God can hear it all the same, just like He hears the wordless praise of the wild animals.


End file.
